Taps
by Project7723
Summary: Missing scene for S02E02. Jack and Greer have a heart-to-heart on a very wet hotel room floor. Oneshot. (Previously entitled The War)


_Disclaimer: I own nothing. :) _

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Jim Greer exited his room and headed for the neighboring one, panting ever so slightly. His heart had long since calmed down, and now he felt only a dull ache in his chest.

Jack's door was open, so Greer poked his head in.

Jack was slumped on the floor, head bowed, in a puddle of water. His knees were drawn to his chest, forearms resting across them. His limp hands cradled something small and dark. A towel, sopping and bloody, was coiled next to him.

Greer rapped his knuckles on the door frame. "Hey."

Jack looked up. There were tear stains on his face.

"You okay? You look like crap."

"Thanks. I'll be fine."

"Right. I just talked to November. He's sending a team to pick us up." Greer cautiously crossed the wet floor to Jack's side, bracing a hand on the wall and easing himself down with a grunt. "Where did all this water come from?"

Jack glanced at the bathroom door. He shuddered.

Greer's eyebrows climbed in realization, eyes darting from the filled bathtub to Jack's still-wet hair and clothes. "He tried to drown you."

"Among other things."

Greer swore.

"Yeah."

Greer gestured toward the blood streaked towel. "That blood belong to you?"

Jack shook his head. "His."

They fell into silence. Greer studied Jack's blank face. The contusions from the convoy bombing had darkened, and fresh ones were blooming on his jaw and around his throat.

"He saved my life." Jack said at length.

Greer hesitated. "Who?"

Without looking up, Jack plopped a folded pocket knife into Greer's hand. Turning it over, he saw _JR_ engraved on the side.

"From Jimmy. For my birthday." A beat. "That man-whoever he was-he had a plastic bag over my face. I, uh, I couldn't breathe. My vision went dark, I thought it was over, you know? Then I remembered the knife in my pocket. I stabbed him. Three times." He huffed. "I've never appreciated oxygen so much in my life." His face became somber. "Jimmy's been dead for thirty-three hours, and he's still saving my life."

Greer handed the knife back. "He seemed like a good man."

"The best I've known," Jack stated with conviction.

"I'm sorry, Jack."

He nodded, biting his lip and turning away.

Greer put a hand on his shoulder and squeezed, searching for words.

After a moment, in which Greer came up with nothing, Jack met his gaze with eyes so lost, he was taken aback. "It should have been me. Why is it never me?"

Greer frowned, a spark of alarm flaring in the pit of his stomach.

"My team and the refugees on that chopper. Sandrine at that gas station in France. Ali Suleiman. The people in that convoy yesterday. Jimmy." He swallowed. _"Why am I still here?"_

Greer nodded slowly, coming to understand what Jack was saying. He'd asked himself that question at various points in his life. "I don't know the answer to that," he began carefully. "I wish I did."

Jack's shoulders sagged, and he rested his face on his knees, hands clutching at the back of his neck.

"But I do know there's a reason. And I, for one, am glad. The world needs people like you, Jack." Greer forced himself to be transparent. "There's...There is no one I'd rather have at my back in the trenches."

Jack raised his head, searching Greer's eyes. He nodded.

"Did Moreno have a family?" Greer asked after a moment.

Jack's face fell. "A wife and three kids."

"Jimmy was there for you," Greer mused.

"Always."

"So be there for him now. They'll need you."

"When this is all over, they're my first stop," Jack vowed.

Greer gave a nod of approval. "You're a good man, Jack."

Jack winced. "I wish I could believe that," he whispered .

"Then take my word for it. I'm known for my honesty."

Jack gave a wet laugh. "That's one way of putting it." He took a shaky breath. "Listen...earlier? I didn't mean to freak out all over you. But I thought-I thought..." He trailed off, but the rest hung tangible between them.

_I thought I'd lost you, too._

Greer tightened his grip on Jack's shoulder. "Well, I'm here, and I don't plan on going anywhere." He got to his feet. "We'll get him, Jack. Reyes? We'll get him," he said with certainty. He offered his hand.

Jack took it.

* * *

_So, I took a wee bit of a liberty here in that I didn't actually see Max drop Jack's knife when he left. But I was rewatching the first episode of S2, and I was like, "Wow, that's a specific gift. I'm surprise it didn't come into play later. WAIT." So if course I had to go rewatch the bathroom scene. Not for nothing, but I'm not sure who breathed less during that scene-me or Jack. That stuff was terrifying, yo._

_Anyway. I hope you enjoyed this little piece! Thank you very much for taking the time to read it! Feedback always welcome. :)_

_❤❤❤ - 7723_


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